


Size Ain't Everything

by CR Noble (erudite12)



Category: SPN, Supernatural
Genre: Cocky!Dean, Drinking, F/M, Fighting, Imagines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-07-14 16:06:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7178915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erudite12/pseuds/CR%20Noble
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagine Dean thinking you can’t beat him in a fight because you are so much smaller than him</p>
            </blockquote>





	Size Ain't Everything

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on hardertobreatheat-night.tumblr.com. Check me out!

You were frustrated. Sam and Dean had gone on yet another hunt without you, and as usual, one of them had come home hurt. This time it was Sam. You knew that you could help on the hunts. You were small, but that didn’t mean you were useless.

You stormed into the kitchen and leaned into the refrigerator to get a beer. You put the top of the bottle against the counter and slammed a fist down on it, popping the top off of it. You took long pull and walked into the library. Sam was sitting in a recliner with one long leg thrown over the arm of the chair. Dean was leaning against one of the book shelves, facing away from you. You made a split second decision, and walked up to Dean.

“Hey,” you said, shoving him forward. He turned around and looked at you. You took another drink of your beer.

“What the hell was that for, Y/N?” Dean asked, looking at you.

“Why won’t you let me hunt with you, Dean?” you said. “I can take care of myself. And the two of you would get hurt a lot less if you let me help. You looked up so that you could look him in the eye.

“What are you talking about, Y/N? I’m just trying to keep you safe. You’re like family. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“What, you don’t think I can handle myself in a fight?” Dean smirked, and chuckled a little.

“I don’t think you could handle me in a fight, let alone a demon.” Sam perked up in his chair, the small smile on his face making him look like he knew something that Dean didn’t. Which of course he did. You laughed, and took another drink from your beer.

“Right, the tiny little girl can’t hold her own in a fight. You’re kind of a chauvinistic asshole, Dean.” Dean shook his head at you, still smirking. You ran your tongue across your lower lip, looking away from him. You looked up at him again. He was at least a foot taller than you, and probably weighed about a hundred pounds more than you. “Okay, how about you put your money where your mouth is, Dean-o?”

“What do you mean? You want me to fight you?” He raised his eyebrows at you. “Come on, Y/N. I’d wipe the floor with you.”

“Are we taking bets on that?” Sam asked from his chair and winking at you.

“This is the deal. We spar, normal human to normal human, bare hands. No pads. You win, I will never complain about not going on a hunt again. I win, you never leave me behind again.”

“No weapons?”

“No weapons. Just you wiping the floor with my tiny ass,” you snarked.

“Fine. You want to do this, let’s do it.”

* * *

 An hour later, you were in the dungeon, squaring off with Dean in the middle of the Devil’s Trap on the floor. He still wore his jeans and t-shirt, but you had changed into a pair of black leggings and a loose tank top, and put you hair up into a tight bun on your head. You were circling each other.

“Come on, jackass,” you said. “Come wipe the floor with me. I’ll even let you take the first swing.” Dean smirked again, and took a step closer. He threw a right hook at your face, which you dodged easily, grabbing Dean’s arm and shoving him away from you. “Come on, Dean. You can do better than that.”

The smirk grew and he came at you fast and hard, throwing punch after punch. You expertly dodged and deflected the hits. After a while, you got tired of dancing. You waited for Dean to throw a punch and used it to go on the offensive. You grabbed his wrist and pulled him in while taking a step toward him. You threw your elbow into his ribcage, following it up with a knee to the solar plexus and a leg sweep, throwing him to the ground.

“Okay, I may have underestimated you,” Dean said, pushing himself up off the ground. “But that doesn’t mean you win this fight.”

“Oh, please. I’m literally toying with you. I could’ve finished this fight ten minutes ago.”

“Oh, you think so? Prove it.”

“Just don’t forget to tap out before I break your arm.” Dean lunged at you and you grabbed his arm, and putting a foot on his knee for leverage you wrapped your other leg around his shoulder. In one deft move, you had one of his arms bent backwards, a leg wrapped around his throat and the other arm flailing as he tried to break the hold. You were stronger than you looked, but Dean held out for a long while. When he finally realized he couldn’t break the hold, he tapped your leg twice with his free hand. You released him immediately and stood up.

“What the actual hell, Y/N?” he breathed, looking up at you. You laughed at him, and suddenly noticed Sam standing a few feet behind you laughing as well. “Seriously, when did you learn how to do that?”

“You’re an idiot, Dean,” Sam said, still laughing. You nodded in agreement. “She’s got three black belts.”

“Wait, you knew this shit was going to happen?” Dean asked Sam as he clambered to his feet. Sam just nodded. “Son of a bitch.” He looked at you. “So, three black belts? Why didn’t you just tell me that in the first place?”

“Tae kwan do, kenpo karate and jiu jitsu,” you said. “And if you’d actually listen, you would have known. You were five feet away when I told Sam.


End file.
